


Teach Your Children

by RetroactiveCon



Series: Hold Tight to What You Love [13]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Barry Allen has ADHD, Jewish Leonard Snart, Kid Fic, Multi, Self-Discovery, So Many Sexuality/Gender Headcanons, Trans Barry Allen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:35:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23031811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RetroactiveCon/pseuds/RetroactiveCon
Summary: “Time for a challah talk, baby?”Nora nods. The twins sort of grasp the significance of bread-making; they come to him, help roll strips of dough, and pour out all the troubles of their tiny hearts.
Relationships: Barry Allen/Leonard Snart
Series: Hold Tight to What You Love [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1571482
Comments: 44
Kudos: 114





	1. Chapter 1

“Abba.” Nora scampers up to him. Without asking, he pulls over one of the sturdy wooden chairs and helps her climb onto it. 

“Time for a challah talk, baby?” 

Nora nods. The twins sort of grasp the significance of bread-making; they come to him, help roll strips of dough, and pour out all the troubles of their tiny hearts. While rolling a ball of dough into a strip, she asks, “What am I that’s like Papa and Uncle Wally?”

Leonard puzzles over that question. “A speedster?” 

She gives him a glare she definitely picked up from him. “I know _that,_ Abba. The other thing. The busy-brain thing that’s why Papa can’t clean.”

Leonard bites back a laugh at her phrasing. “You mean ADHD, baby. Yes, you have ADHD like your Papa and Uncle Wally.” 

She passes him the strip of dough and takes another ball to roll out. “What does it mean, though, Abba?”

“Oh.” He considers. Of course she’s curious; he’s glad of that. He just can’t fathom why she would come to him rather than ask Barry. “I don’t know if I should be the one answering that, baby. Your Papa can probably explain it better than I can.”

“Okay.” She nods and gives the strip of dough she’s rolling a final pat. “I just thought it sounded like a challah talk. Papa doesn’t really have a challah talk time.”

Leonard hadn’t thought about that. He didn’t intend for challah-making to become such a special time for the twins—they started coming to him, and he’s happily maintained it as their time. Perhaps Barry hasn’t formed such a routine with them. “You could ask him to go running with you.”

Nora lights up. “I like running with Papa!” 

“I know, baby.” Leonard leans down to kiss her brow. “How about you help me finish braiding and then you can go run with Papa?” 

Nora stands and watches intently, mesmerized by the easy crisscross of strip over strip. While he works, he says, “I don’t want you to think I don’t care, Little Blue. I do. The way your brain—and your Papa’s brain—works matters a lot in the way I have to take care of you. What a bad Abba I would be if I didn’t help things make sense for you, huh?”

She rocks slowly. It isn't agreement; she's just acknowledging that she’s heard him. 

“It just isn’t the way my mind works,” he explains. “That’s why I can’t tell you about it as much as your Papa can.”

Nora considers. “Does your mind work like Michael’s?”

“Hmm…kind of.” Leonard sees some of his tendencies in Michael, alexithymia and its associated difficulties among them, but far stronger than they ever were in him. “A little more than yours does, I think. It’s not a bad thing that you think differently, though.”

“No,” she agrees. “And we’re twins, so we know things.”

_That_ Leonard has noticed. It’s cute how in sync they are, and he hopes it doesn’t change as they age. “Yes, you do, Little Blue.”

Once the braid is finished, Leonard helps Nora down from the chair. “Go talk to Papa,” he coaxes. “Give him kisses for me.”

“Icky, Abba,” she murmurs, but pauses to give him a kiss on the nose. “I will, though.”

Later that evening, when the twins are in bed, Barry wraps him in an unexpected hug. “I had a nice run with Nora today,” he murmurs. “Thank you for nudging her to me.”

Leonard kisses Barry’s brow. “I’m glad it went well. She seemed like she needed it.”

“I did, too.” Barry nuzzles his nose into the dip between Leonard’s collarbones. It’s a sweet, submissive gesture that brings automatic praise to Leonard’s lips. “I forget sometimes that I had to learn how to manage with my own thoughts. I’ll have to help Nora the same way.”

“At least she has you.” Leonard gets the impression that Barry was never taught how to thrive with his ADHD. Hopefully Nora will be. 

“Also your challah talks are cute.” Barry looks up and grins. “I’m glad you’ve made that safe space for them. They seem to really like it.”

Leonard shrugs. “They did that, not me.”

“Well, but you let them.” Barry tilts his head. “You’re good with them, you know. And I’m not just saying it to say it. They’re thriving and happy, and so much of that is you.”

Leonard hasn’t hurt them yet. That doesn’t mean he won’t. “I love you, Scarlet.”

“You don’t believe me.” Barry kisses him, soft and sweet and chaste. “That’s okay. I’ll keep telling you until you do.”


	2. Chapter 2

Next it’s Michael, clambering up on a chair without asking and beckoning Leonard down. Once he’s within whispering distance, Michael confides, “Abba, I don’t think I’m a boy.”

Leonard smiles. He’s wondered if this would happen, but the last thing he wanted was to lead the baby in any particular direction. “What are you, then, little Mick?”

Still whispering, Michael asks, “Can I be ‘they’ like Axel?”

“Of course.” Leonard rubs his thumb over their round little cheek. “Do you want to stay as Michael or use a new name?”

“Can I be Mick?” The baby lights up hopefully. “All the time—no more Michael anymore?”

“Sure,” Leonard affirms. “You’ll always be my little Mick, as long as you want to be.” After a moment, he asks, “Why are we whispering?”

Mick glances over their shoulder and confesses, “I don’t want Papa to be upset that I’m choosing not to be a boy.”

Leonard pulls them into an embrace. “Baby, you’re not choosing to be anything. You _are_ nonbinary, or whatever label you decide suits you, just like Papa is a man. He’s not going to be angry with you. Why would he be?”

“Papa had to come out as a man,” Mick explains. “And Auntie Lisa says coming out is hard. That means he thinks being a man is _really_ important.” They drop their gaze to the countertop. Leonard never wants to see such a terrified look on their face again.

“It is—for him,” he agrees. “Just like not being a boy is important for you. Papa knows how hard it is to come out, so he’ll love it very much if you tell him.” 

They look up, hope shining in their big eyes. “Really?” 

Leonard nods. “Of course, little Mick. I promise.” 

After such an important challah talk, he expects Barry to catch up with him once the twins are in bed. He doesn’t disappoint. “Hey, so little Mick had some big news today.”

“They told you,” Leonard realizes. He casts a fond glance toward the twins’ bedroom. 

Barry nods. “They were so nervous—what did I do?” He, like Leonard, glances at the twins’ bedroom door. “Why were they so scared to tell me?”

“That’s a question to ask them.” Leonard pulls Barry into an embrace. He melts into it with a soft, worried noise. “But here’s what I think. They’re a lot like me, and I think they tried to plan for what could happen and got scared.”

Barry makes a wounded noise. “That’s not better. What did I do to make them think, in any iteration of their plan, that I would be angry? When I came out to Joe, I didn’t…well, I was a little worried, but…”

“Not all of us are that optimistic, Scarlet.” Leonard kisses his brow. “Mick is a lot like me, and remember, there was a long time where I thought you hated me.”

“Oh yeah.” Barry tilts his head. “So you’re saying they’re as bad about groundless pessimism as you are?”

“Yes, exactly.” Leonard isn’t sure he can call his own pessimism groundless—he’s done enough cruel things to earn Barry’s scorn (and the twins’, once they’re old enough to understand)—but Mick’s undoubtedly is. “Did you tell them you love them?”

Barry gapes. “Of course I did! And I offered to help them tell Nora, but they said she already knows.”

She was probably the first person Mick told. Then Leonard thinks back to her proud insistence that, as twins, they simply ‘know things’ and wonders if Mick had to say a word. “That doesn’t surprise me.” 

“I’m glad they’re so close.” Barry casts another glance at the twins’ door. “And maybe I need to make a challah talk time of my own so they’ll feel more able to talk to me.”

“Well, Nora likes running with you.” Leonard considers. “Mick is just cuddly. Ask them what will work; they’ll appreciate having the choice.” 

Barry smiles and nuzzles closer into Leonard’s arms. “Speaking of cuddly…”

“Someone’s tired.” If asked, the baby-voice isn’t deliberate. (It very much is, and he suspects Barry will know that, but plausible deniability is a wonderful thing.) 

“I hate you,” he mumbles, too fondly to mean anything but 'I love you.' 

Leonard kisses him again. “I know.”


	3. Chapter 3

Nora is eleven when she joins Leonard in making challah and promptly pronounces, “Abba, I think I like girls.” 

“Oh?” Leonard shoots her a mischievous grin. He’s glad she can admit as much without fear; it’s one more reassurance that he’s nothing like Lewis, who might have killed him had he ever learned of his orientation. Right now isn’t the time to let Nora know that. Instead, he teases, “Who’s caught your eye, Little Blue?”

She blushes a Barry-like shade of red and whispers, “Joss.”

That makes sense. Joss Jackam is Mark’s daughter—two years younger than Nora, with a feisty streak a mile wide. She’s a terror to look after, but the twins adore her, further proving that what’s fun in a friend can be alarming to a parent. 

“I know she’s bitty,” Nora adds, “but she’s cute.”

“As long as you know,” Leonard concedes. “Once you’re a little older, she won’t be so bitty compared to you. I mean, your Papa was bitty compared to me when we met.” He still is—it’s a point of occasional tension between them—but Leonard isn’t going to get into the nuances of such a severe age gap with a preteen. 

“Gross, Abba,” she says automatically. 

They work in silence for a moment. Gently, Leonard asks, “How long have you known?”

“I started thinking about it a few weeks ago.” Nora passes him the last strip of dough and watches intently while he braids. “I wanted to be sure before doing a challah talk.” 

He nudges his shoulder against hers, unwilling to touch her and get flour on her. “I’m glad you felt comfortable thinking about it without worrying what Papa or I would think.”

“Of course not!” Her immediate answer is more of a comfort than she can know. “You’re not like Uncle Hartley’s parents, Abba. Or like Grandpa.” 

She means Lewis; Joe is ‘Papa Joe,’ which is cute. Leonard hadn’t thought he was so obvious about loathing the thought of being like Lewis, but both twins go out of their way to reassure him that he isn’t. (He blames Barry for this.) “Thank you, Little Blue.”

When the braid is finished, he steps aside so she can brush it with egg wash. She does so lovingly, as though this particular loaf is her masterpiece. While she works, she asks, “How old were you when you realized you like boys?” 

“Hmm.” Leonard ponders. He’d had an inkling prior to his first stint in juvie, but it didn’t seem particularly important, so he’d ignored it. “After I met Uncle Mick. He took such good care of me that it felt natural to fall in love with him. But it took me a long time after that to realize that I loved people regardless of what gender they were, and my father certainly didn’t make it as easy to think about identity things as Papa and I have for you.” 

Nora coos. “Of course you loved Uncle Mick! I think he loved you back. You’re his frost elf, you know.”

Leonard grimaces. He’d hoped the twins would never pick up on the unfortunate real-life inspiration of Mick’s frost elf and heat sprite characters, but it was inevitable. Mick is many things; subtle is not one of them. “We were too clueless to do anything about it. So learn from me, Little Blue, and once you’re a little older, tell people how you feel. Even if you’re not absolutely sure of what you feel, let them know about it.”

She nods emphatically. “Papa had that talk with me too, because of Auntie Iris.”

“Wait, you already told him?” This is new. Leonard is used to being the first to hear of new developments with the twins. The thought that she might have told Barry first stings, in a bizarre, irrational way. 

“Mhmm, when we went running.” She sets aside the bowl of egg wash. Leonard covers it in cling wrap and puts it back in the refrigerator. “We got cupcakes and talked about pretty girls. Is Papa like you and loves everybody?” 

Leonard beckons her to the sofa. As soon as they sit down, she cuddles against his side, leans her head on his shoulder, and watches him intently. “That’s a good question, Blue. From what your Papa has told me, yes, he can fall in love with anyone of any gender, but the way he falls in love is different depending on who they are. He told me falling in love with nonbinary people is a sort of soft, dizzy feeling, with women it's more gradual and—he called it ‘warm’—and falling in love with men is like lightning.” At the time, this went some way toward explaining why he’s more prone to make an adorable, lovesick fool of himself around men. “It isn’t like that for me. Falling in love has always felt one way—a good way, but kind of a slow, weird one.” 

“Oh.” Nora ponders. “Is it better to be able to fall in love with anyone? Like, am I bad for just loving girls?” 

“No.” Leonard squeezes her. “Just don’t be impolite to people if they tell you they love you and you don’t love them back. And that’s true for everybody—even me. Just because I _can_ love anyone doesn’t mean I do, and that’s okay. Nobody has a right to you or your love, and if they tell you they do, you get as far away from them as you can and don’t look back.” 

She considers this. “Papa said that too, to little Mick and me. And Auntie Lisa agreed with him, which she says doesn't happen very often.”

Barry would know; he’s been on both sides of the equation. Leonard suspects, although he’d never ask, that being on the receiving end of Thawne’s obsessive crush made Barry think twice about his youthful fascination with Iris. “Well, your Papa is a wise man, and Auntie Lisa wants very much to take care of you.” 

She huddles closer. “I’m glad you still love Auntie Lisa and live close to her. It gives me hope for me and little Mick in the future.” 

“I hope you stay close, too,” Leonard agrees. “But it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t follow your own path. Having your own dreams doesn’t mean growing apart.” 

She nods and tucks her arm over his belly. “I know, Abba. But thank you for telling me.” 

They stay cuddled up until the timer beeps. Leonard is about to nudge Nora to one side so he can go get the bread in the oven. Before he can move, there’s a whirl of ice-blue lightning. Nora reappears with a grin. “In the oven, timer set. See? I’m your good baker girl!” 

“That you are,” Leonard agrees. He holds out his arms to her. “Do you want to keep cuddling?” 

As soon as he asks, she’s at his side again. “Of course I do, Abba.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Hey Abba?” 

“Yes, little Mick?” Leonard stands aside. He’s started showing the twins how to braid the challah loaf. Without being prompted, Mick steps over, stares down at the strips of dough, and slowly begins to braid.

“I’m not little any more, Abba.” Mick doesn’t say this quite as irritably as Nora might. They’re not wrong; in fact, at thirteen, they’re taking after Barry more and more. (This is most noticeable in the endless and comical expanse of limbs. They’ve begged to be told they’ll grow out of it; each time, Leonard simply indicates Barry, who never grew out of his gangly phase.) 

“No, you’re not,” he agrees. “So what’s the challah talk today?”

They frown at the beginnings of the braid. As much as Leonard wants to correct them, he steps aside and watches as a clumsy, slightly lopsided braid takes shape. “I was talking to Grandpa Martin—just kind of about everything, he knows a lot—and he started telling me about ace things, and they felt right.” 

Leonard nods slowly. “So you think ‘asexual’ works for you too?”

They shrug. “I don’t know? Because you know how Grandpa Martin is, he had to give me all the information all at once, about how sex positivity and libido and all these other things are independent of being asexual, and I feel like I need a diagram.” 

Leonard snorts. That sounds about right; Stein has never, even with the advent of Lily’s children, been able to explain things in a child-friendly way. If he gave Mick the entire history of asexuality in an hour, as he’s wont to do, he probably just confused them. “Well, explain it back to me. Let’s see if we can make sense of it together.”

“Um, okay.” Mick forsakes the braid. They have as much difficulty focusing on disparate tasks as Leonard does; they prefer to devote their attention wholeheartedly to a single task. Instead, Leonard finishes braiding the dough. “Grandpa Martin said asexuality is not looking at someone and going ‘I would like to engage in intercourse with them.’” 

Leonard stifles a laugh. That can only be a direct quote. “That’s a solid starting point.” 

“And I don’t do that? But I talked to Nora and she says she doesn’t either, just thinks about kissing, which Grandpa Martin said is technically a romantic thing, so…”

“You’re also thirteen,” Leonard reminds them. “If you were doing that, I might be concerned. Give yourself a few years on that count. But do you think about kissing?”

“No. It’s too close and, and, and I have a no-touch bubble around my head, like here.” Mick mimics a diver’s helmet enclosing their head and neck. “So no, no kissing. And then, um, Grandpa Martin was saying that it’s okay to be asexual and still have sex, it’s just that the attraction isn’t there. He said action doesn’t equal attraction, which was the clearest thing he told me all day.” 

“Well, he’s right about that,” Leonard agrees. “Does that make sense to you?”

“I think so.” Mick nods. “But then he also said I’m thirteen and shouldn’t be thinking about sex yet, so I asked when should I, and Grandma Clarissa told me to ask you or Papa.” 

Leonard will have to thank her for that next time he sees her. From conversations with Lily, he’s gathered that Martin errs on the side of ‘for the love of all that’s holy, don’t think about sex until your mid-twenties,’ which isn’t a realistic attitude. “Well, that depends. For most people, it’s high school, but I’ve known people who didn’t feel any particular sexual attraction until college, so a lot of it depends on you.” 

“Oh.” Mick ponders. “So we should wait and do this challah talk later?” 

“No, no, I’m not saying that.” He passes them the bowl of egg wash and the brush. “You’re plenty old enough to identify with a particular orientation. If, as you say, ‘ace things’ feel right to you, then you can go ahead and explore that. If you reconsider later, that’s okay too.” 

Mick nods and leans against his shoulder. “Thanks for helping everything make sense, Abba.” 

“That’s my job, Mick.” He kisses their brow. “You can come to me with whatever you need to know.” 

“I love you.” They set aside the egg wash and turn to hug him properly. He rocks them back and forth—they like being rocked as much as Barry or Nora—and murmurs, 

“I love you too.”


	5. Chapter 5

Leonard is admittedly perplexed to return from his first heist in a very long time to find little Mick in the kitchen, up to their elbows in flour. “Uh…welcome home?” The twins only recently started college; they’re close enough to come home on the weekends, but he expected a little more time before they’d want to forsake their newfound freedom for the familiar chaos of home. 

“I don’t have Friday classes,” Mick explains. They’re in the process of adding flour to the dough; little puffs rise out of the bowl with every firm movement of their hands. “I wanted to make challah with you, but you weren’t home and I got tired of waiting.” 

“I didn’t know you were coming.” Leonard sheds his parka and tucks the cold gun behind the sofa. There’s no reason for Mick to know he was out on a heist. 

“It was kind of a spur-of-the-moment decision.” They frown at the dough. 

“What’s on your mind?” There isn’t much for Leonard to do; kneading flour into the dough is a one-person job. Without being asked, he grabs a saucepan, fills it with water, and sets it to boil. 

“Um. Remember when I said ace things felt right?”

Leonard nods. “Yes, I do.” He suspects he knows where they’re going with this—something similar happened to him—but he’ll let them explain in their own time. 

“Well. I’m…confused.” Mick flushes a dull red. “I am very much attracted to men, but I don’t know _how.”_

Leonard chuckles. It sounds like their newfound attraction hit them like a freight train. That’s not a feeling with which he’s familiar; every kind of attraction he’s ever felt comes on gradually. (This was even true of Barry—while his fascination with the little scarlet nuisance was sudden and all-consuming, his attraction to _Barry_ happened heist by heist.) “What do you mean, you don’t know how?” 

“I mean attraction is confusing!” They throw up floury hands and proceed to break into a sneezing fit. “I thought— _choo!_ —that I didn’t wa-a-a— _achoo!”_

Leonard hands them a tissue. While they blow their nose and wash their hands, he takes over kneading the dough. 

“I thought I didn’t want sex and didn’t like anyone that way and that the idea of sex was revolting, but.” They look down at their socks—conspicuously lumpy, cotton-candy-colored socks that can only be Axel’s handiwork. “Um, I’m…less sex-repulsed than I was? And also I don’t know what I am romantically? And I feel like I want to date but I don’t know how and I don’t know whether the fact that I can’t tell what I’m feeling will push people away.” 

“And that’s all right.” Leonard adds the last of the flour. “Do you remember? I told you some people don’t feel any particular attraction until college. Having to re-evaluate your identity doesn’t make it less valid, even if you’re not entirely sure what you’re feeling.”

Mick nods. “I talked it over with the nice lady in counseling services, and, um, about the not-sex-repulsed thing, it turns out I have more dysphoria than I thought I did. Like, not a whole lot, but it’s all bottom dysphoria, and it’s bad.” Softly, they add, “I thought being nonbinary meant not being okay with your gender but being fine with your body.”

Leonard shakes his head. “No, not necessarily. Nonbinary people can have dysphoria too. Remember, Auntie Lisa talked about that. She identifies as transfeminine…”

“But more demigirl-leaning-nonbinary,” Mick finishes. They sound proud of themself for remembering the way she explained it. “I guess I thought it was different because she identifies with ‘she’ as well as ‘they,’ and I’m just ‘they.’” 

Leonard leans over and, since his hands are doughy, bumps his shoulder against Mick’s. “So some of your sex-repulsion was more an issue with your own body than with sex itself.”

They nod. “Yep. I still don’t think I can ever look at someone and go ‘I would _like_ sex with them,’ but there have been a couple of times I’ve seen a guy on campus and gotten all blushy and fluttery and I think it’s mostly romantic attraction? But also if he wanted to do sex with me I probably wouldn’t mind?” 

That part Leonard can’t speak to; he’s no expert on asexuality (although after Mick’s initial coming-out, he visited the Asexual Visibility and Education Network, to his benefit). He can, however, speak to the emotional confusion Mick seems to be feeling. “I’m not the person to talk to about the finer points of asexuality. Grandpa Martin might be able to help, or there’s a website I found that might help you make some sense of the sexual aspect.”

Mick tilts their head. “You found a website?” 

Leonard nods. “I did some research after you first came out to me. Can you get the water in the oven?” 

Obediently, Mick slips the pot of boiling water into the oven. “You did research for me,” they murmur as though it’s the best thing they’ve heard all day. 

Leonard wets a cloth and drapes it over the bowl. Without being asked, Mick takes the covered bowl and pops it into the now-steamy oven to rise. “I did, but I’m no expert. What I can tell you is that the confusion you’re feeling about the romantic aspect is familiar to me. Do you know what alexithymia is?”

Mick nods. “Emotions are hard. Oh, right! Romance is all about emotions, which I can’t do. That’s…great.” Their face falls. 

Leonard, having washed his hands, is free to gather them into a hug. “It’s not that you don’t _have_ emotions. Trust me, I lived through your teenage years too—you have emotions.” They giggle. “It’s just that understanding them is hard, and it’s…probably not going to get easier.” With several decades of experience, including two decades spent head-over-heels for an emotional little hero, he can say that much with confidence. “It’s okay to communicate that to whoever you’re dating. In fact, I encourage it—it’ll save you heartache later.” If he’d told Barry earlier in their messy courtship that he felt _something_ but had no idea what it was, it would have saved Barry months of anxiety. As it was, it took a long time for him to use the word ‘love’ with Barry, simply because he wasn’t sure if that was what he really felt. “If they aren’t willing to at least try to understand, they’re probably not someone you should date.” 

“Yeah, I guess.” They huddle closer. Without being asked, he rocks them back and forth. “I’m just so worried because what if I think I feel something for somebody and I actually don’t? I could break their heart, and I don't want to hurt anyone.” 

“You can give yourself as much time as you need.” This, for Leonard, is critical. He wouldn’t be where he is today, with a family he loves more than all the fears he's had to conquer, if Barry hadn’t given him time to wrangle his confusing feelings into a semblance of order. “The right person—like your Papa was to me—will give you the time to make sure what you’re feeling is real. You might not be able to put a name to what it is, but knowing that it’s there is enough of a start.” 

“I guess,” Mick agrees. Furtively, they ask, “What if I don’t find someone that understanding? What if I just find people who want me to know now?” 

“I’m not going to give you the fairytale ‘you’ll find the right person’ speech, because you might not.” It would do Mick a disservice to pretend otherwise. “There’s no magic ‘other half’ who’s going to be perfect for you. Your Papa frustrates me out of my mind sometimes, even now.” They giggle. “But you never have to settle. I would rather see you alone, living your best life as you are, than watch you change to please someone.” 

They nod. “That much I know. Everybody’s told me that.” 

“Then believe them.” Leonard squeezes them. “You are much too valuable as you are, confusing emotions and all. Give yourself room for error—do you understand?”

They nod. “I love you, Abba.” 

The words come easily now, but then, Leonard has had years to remind himself that what he's feeling is real. “I love you too.”


End file.
